Facing the Music
by Eowyn77
Summary: Forks is rocked by a scandal involving the perfect Cullens.
1. Punk

How could he do this? How could _my_ son do this? How could he draw negative attention to our family? Didn't he realize the damage he could do to us?

Ever since that troublesome girl moved here after Christmas, he'd changed in ways I didn't like. Skipping class, skipping out on us — his mother still was frantic at the thought — spending an inordinate amount of time and money on his appearance. This was just the icing on the proverbial cake.

I paced the study while I waited for him to get home from school, creasing and re-creasing the letter in my hand until it was almost falling apart. I didn't need to read the words anymore; they were burned into my memory. How on earth were we going to hush this up?

We couldn't keep it quiet. Too many people had seen. I wouldn't be surprised if it made the local paper. Wouldn't that be lovely, if it showed up in some "Oddly Enough" section on an Internet news site?

That foppish boy stopped in the middle of the yard when he saw my car in the drive, then looked nervously toward my study's window. He knew exactly what I was thinking, and I could see on his face that he was tempted to run away.

I scowled at him. "Get in here, young man!"

He hung his head and made his way inside and up the stairs. I unfolded the letter, and the bottom third fell off. Stooping, I picked it up just as he opened the door. 

"Well?" he said.

I slapped the letter against my palm and another square of paper fell fluttering to the floor. "How could you! What were you thinking? I cannot believe it!"

"It's not like he saw — "

"I don't _care_ what he did or didn't see! What everyone else saw is more than enough! The entire school is talking about this. The entire _town_ is talking about it." I inhaled deeply through my nose, trying to calm myself, then I coldly demanded, "Michael Hubert Newton, what on earth possessed you to write 'Edward is gay' on his locker with permanent marker?"

He grimaced.

"I have in my hand a bill for repainting the locker, and an explanation of the school's suspension procedures for vandalism and _sexual harassment_. Did you hear me? _SEXUAL HARRASMENT!_ From the bank to the school to _my_ store, people are talking about the fact that Mike Newton got suspended for sexually harassing Edward Cullen! Between this and you skipping classes and shifts at the store this last week, I'm ready to tan your hide, seventeen or not. What do you have to say for yourself?"

He shrugged one shoulder, dripping attitude.

Bella Swan gets hurt in Phoenix and he suddenly becomes a teenage punk. "You're grounded!"


	2. Truth and Dare

I couldn't tell my dad why I did it. He was furious that I'd vandalized a locker, but he'd be ten times angrier if he knew I'd been duped into it. The truth is, I wrote on Edward Cullen's locker on a dare. It was Tyler that put me up to it.

Bella and the Cullens were all absent from school for the second day in a row. Rumor had it that Bella had gone back to Phoenix because Edward had gotten her pregnant, but I didn't believe it. They'd pretty much ignored each other until two weeks ago, and neither of them seemed the impulsive kind. At least, I hoped not. As for the Cullens, somebody said they all had food poisoning, even the doctor.

You'd think that after talking about it between every class and _all_ through lunch for TWO days, Jessica and Lauren would have found something else to gossip about. Anything! I mean, don't girls go on about nail polish and chocolate and being too fat? At least _some_ of the time? But that day, it was all "Cullen this" and "Bella that" until I was ready to puke myself.

And then Tyler met me after gym. We all had lockers in that building, and he stood leaning against the one next to Edward's. When he saw me, he rolled his eyes in camaraderie. "I wish the girls would just shut up already."

"You and me both."

"Then let's distract 'em for a bit." He held up his fist, and I could just see the top part of a fat, black marker. "Swiped it from Mr. Jefferson's white board. I dare you to insult Edward," he said, nodding toward the locker.

I scowled at him, and he grimaced back. "Aw, come on! He's home chucking up his guts right now. They'll wipe it off before he gets back."

"My dad would kill me."

"For a dry-erase marker?" Tyler asked, incredulous.

"It's the businessman in him. He thinks anything that draws negative attention to us is bad for the store." I didn't add that it was stupid to think like that because almost all of our customers were out-of-staters who we'd never see again.

"Who's gonna tell him it was you?" Tyler countered. "No one will ever know."

"Why don't you do it, then?" My dad really _would_ kill me if I got in trouble.

"Because it isn't my girlfriend who's wishing Cullen got her pregnant."

That was a low blow, and the fact that it was true made it all the worse. I snatched the marker from his hand and wrote in big black letters "ED IS GAY." It wasn't until I went to put the cap back on that the smell hit me. This wasn't a dry erase marker. I looked over at Tyler, and he all but fell over laughing. I threw the marker at him, kicked him once on the ankle, and then fled the scene of the crime.

But that was only just the beginning of my troubles.


	3. Fun

Jasper and I came back to school on Monday. The Wednesday previous, we'd had the satisfaction of reducing James to a pile of rubble and then torching him. Nothing in this sorry excuse of a high school could top that. Boring, boring, and more boring was all I had to look forward to.

We'd spent Sunday hunting, with Jasper taking more kills than usual. We were both still thirsty, what with being so close to Bella's blood, but Alice had called this morning to assure us that we were good to go. Disdaining Edward's Volvo, Rosalie insisted we take her car to school. Jasper just shrugged and climbed into the back seat.

When we got to school everyone was abuzz with whispered gossip. Not that we couldn't hear it. Not that we cared. The Cullens missing an entire, sunless week was something new in their dull little lives. It was just the way it was, and I easily blocked out all the hubbub.

Rosalie was frowning thoughtfully, though, when I sat down opposite her in the cafeteria. "What's wrong, beautiful?" I said, too softly for the humans around us to hear.

"I'm listening."

Jasper and I exchanged a concerned glance. Since when did she care about what the children were saying? "Listening to what?" Jasper whispered, searching her face.

"Trying to figure out who did it."

"For crying out loud, Rose, just say —"

"Hush!" Then she cocked her head and glared at me, her lips turning out in just a hint of a pout. Even without trying, she was gorgeous. "Haven't you been paying attention at all?"

"To the others? No," I answered.

Jasper shrugged. "Not really."

She delicately pulled a face. "Somebody insulted Edward's masculinity."

Beside me, Jasper smothered a grin.

"On his locker," she added, enjoying the scandal.

My shoulders shook as I fought down the belly laugh.

Her eyes glowed, unintentionally seductive. "In permanent ink." Then she sat up straighter. "But no one knows who did it."

"Just when having a mind-reader would be handy," Jasper chuckled, idly squashing the dusky-green peas on his plate with a fork.

Rosalie ignored him. "So I've been trying to eavesdrop all day, but I haven't heard anything besides speculation."

"Who are the prime suspects?" I whispered.

Her gaze darted from mine to Jasper's conspiratorially. "The usual — Edward's rivals for Bella. Tyler Crowley, Eric Yorkie, and Mike Newton."

I grinned despite myself. I hadn't seen Rose this excited about human gossip in years.

"My money was on Eric," she continued. "He's spineless enough to do something like this, but Melanie Jamison saw him turning in a band trip permission slip at the office during the time it must have happened. I was just zeroing in on Tyler and Mike over there when you oafs showed up."

I casually stared at the fluorescent light above the table where Mike and Tyler ate with their friends. They sat at opposite ends of the table, and I got the distinct impression they were pointedly ignoring each other.

It didn't matter, really, who had done it. It was just a stupid prank, and the locker was probably already repainted. No harm done. Except that Edward was my brother, and anybody who picked on my brother had me to reckon with. It went against the grain to let something like this slide, especially when we could have so much _fun_ getting back.

"Any clues on who it was, Jasper?" Rosalie asked.

He concentrated for a moment then laughed softly. "Newton's got guilt rolling off of him in waves, but I'd bet a grizzly that Crowley knows something. He's so smug he's all but glowing."

"Is that so?" I grinned, and I stared intently at Newton. People can sense when a predator is watching them, especially when they're edgy to begin with. It was a basic human instinct that, for the most part, lay dormant, but it only took Newton a couple of seconds to nervously glance my way. When he did, I grinned hugely, showing off my teeth, and waggled my eyebrows at him.

All the color drained from his face and he turned a sickly green. Jasper snickered.

Rosalie turned to follow my gaze, and the sweat on Newton's forehead was visible, even half-way across the room. He picked up his lunch tray, his hands trembling, and hurriedly dumped it in the nearest trashcan. Without a backward glance, he rushed from the room.

Rosalie looked back to me and beamed. "You're so evil. I'd pounce you, if we weren't surrounded by a couple hundred children."

"I can take a rain-check," I answered with a shrug.

"I suppose we'd best ignore him now," Jasper said wistfully.

"And pass up a golden opportunity for some innocent fun?" Rosalie pouted.

"Carlisle would frown on any shenanigans," I pointed out.

Her smile was breathtaking. "Carlisle isn't here."

Devious never looked so good. "What did you have in mind?" 


	4. Femme Fatale

I'll admit, it was a pleasant distraction to plot my prank on Mike Newton. We wouldn't hurt him, of course. We wouldn't even do anything that could be considered overtly threatening. We'd just give his guilty imagination some... encouragement. After all, there's nothing more consuming to the male mind than the femme fatale.

We tossed ideas back and forth the whole way home, but our conversation turned to Carlisle and the others in Phoenix as soon as we were within earshot of the house. We didn't want Esme putting a damper on our plans. It was pathetic, really, how thoroughly we were enjoying this.

We filed quietly into the house, but subterfuge is vain when it comes to Esme. She didn't need to be a mind-reader; she was a mother. Esme took one look at us, planted her hands on her hips, and said, "Alright, you three. What have you done?"

Emmett's baby-face was positively cherubic. "What do you mean?"

She began to laugh. "I know you better than that, Emmett. The more innocent you look, the more guilty you are. Now what are you up to?"

"Nothing, really," Jasper said, and Esme skeptically raised an eyebrow.

Then she smiled, and I suddenly felt in high spirits. "I know you're manipulating me, Jasper" Esme said with a grin, "but if it makes you this happy, then very well. However, I would like to be included in the intrigue."

"Like I said, it's nothing really. Mike Newton vandalized Edward's locker — "

"Why would he do such a thing?" Esme demanded indignantly.

"Jealousy," I answered.

"And you know I can't let such an insult to the family honor go unanswered," Emmett declared grandly. "You know what it says in the Bible. Eye for an eye, prank for a prank..."

Esme chuckled. "That's in the Bible is it?"

"In Leviticus," Emmett answered mischievously. "Somewhere."

"I see." Esme's eyes sparkled. "In Carlisle's absence, I find it my duty to remind you that the family's safety is your first priority."

"Of course," I answered archly.

"We're not going to hurt him," Jasper insisted.

"Just work on his guilty conscience a bit," Emmett added.

"Well in that case," Esme smiled demurely, "carry on. And let me know if you need anything."

* * *

I had to work within the following constraints: 

1.The prank couldn't sully the reputation of the "perfect" Cullens. If anyone found out that Mike had vandalized the locker, and then Mike was struck by a series of practical jokes, we would be the most likely suspects. So we could leave no evidence that anyone actually had it in for Mike Newton. This ruled out Emmett putting a snake in Mike's locker, much to Emmett's disappointment.

2.It could cause no harm to Mike or be overtly threatening.

3.It could not reveal our inhuman natures. (That one's so obvious that I felt stupid even mentioning it.)

4.Mike had to know that all the rotten things happening to him were because of us.

The last part was the easiest to deal with. Mike was just unlocking his lumbering Suburban after school on Tuesday when I silently came up behind him. He jumped when I rested my hand on his shoulder, my arm draped down his back.

"Hi, Mike," I said in a sultry voice.

"Uh..." He blinked twice. "Hi."

I waited while his pulse accelerated and he began to sweat. Beauty is a powerful thing, and vice versa. "You're more right about Edward than you think."

"Um... yeah?" He was almost panting now.

"Yes," I breathed, my eyes wide. This was way too easy. It almost took all the fun out of it. Almost. "He's never expressed a preference for _girls_ until very recently. Bella's his first, and if they weren't an item, your assumption would be entirely understandable."

"Oh."

I leaned in closer, as though we were sharing an intimate conversation, and his eyes glazed over. "Fascinating, don't you think, that you were the one to pick up on that."

"Um..." He began to look panicked. "I guess so."

"And I guess _you_ just confessed." I winked at his suddenly-stricken expression then sauntered off toward my beloved M3 where Jasper and Emmett sat grinning.

With the stage now set, I paid Mike a little visit about two o'clock on Wednesday morning.


	5. Horrible, Terrible, NoGood

I woke up Wednesday feeling exhausted. Around three in the morning, I'd awoken from a really disturbing dream, and it had taken me more than an hour to get back to sleep. I couldn't remember much about it except that Rosalie Hale had been in my room. It was probably just some subconscious junk because they knew about the locker. Talk about weird!

But the weirdness was just beginning.

I woke up about ten minutes late. The radio was turned all the way down, so I didn't hear it. And somehow, my clock had moved in the night. It was on the edge of the nightstand nearest to me when I set the alarm last night, but this morning, it was clear on the other side. I scooted it back, thinking I must have really been tossing and turning in my sleep.

After I showered, I couldn't find my deodorant. It should have been in my drawer in the bathroom vanity along with my comb, toothbrush, and razor (I finally started shaving just a few months ago), but it wasn't there.

"Mom," I hollered toward the kitchen, "where's my deodorant?"

"I don't know what you did with it, honey."

Fat lot of help she was! I looked in my parents' drawers, in the medicine cabinet, under the sink — everywhere! It was like it had fallen off the face of the earth. In desperation, I ended up borrowing my dad's.

When I went to get dressed, my chest of drawers was all rearranged. The socks and underwear were normally in the top drawer, but they were in the middle now. My pants, which were normally in the bottom drawer, were in the top and my shirts were in the bottom.

An awful realization began to dawn.

In terror, I opened my closet door. Normally, my coat and jackets hung on the right and my button-up shirts on the left. But this morning it was just the opposite.

Last night, I distinctly recalled putting my tennis shoes upside down on the heater vent since I had gotten them wet yesterday and wanted them dry for this morning. There in the closet were my still-damp tennis shoes.

Rosalie Hale _had_ been in my room last night.

I staggered back to sit heavily on the edge of the bed. Rosalie Hale, the most gorgeous girl in Forks High — the most gorgeous girl in the _world_ — had been in my room. I forced myself to breath slowly. Here. In _my_ bedroom. And I'd been in just a t-shirt and boxers. With _Rosalie_!

And she'd stolen my deodorant. The sister of the guy I'd insulted had broken into my house and messed with my clothes and my mind. I mean, holy crap! Breaking and entering, that's actually illegal. She could go to jail for that. I tried to imagine her in one of those orange prison outfits, but she was just too beautiful to ever wind up there.

No jury would ever listen to me or anyone else if they had _her_ to look at. And what would I say? "Your Honor, Miss Hale snuck into my house, moved my underwear, and stole my deodorant." And all she'd have to say is "No, I didn't," and everyone would believe her. And then I'd be locked up in some loony bin.

Bewildered, I put my head in my hands and didn't look up until Mom called out, "Mike, come on! You're going to be late for school!"

Hurrying down the stairs, I went to grab my back-pack from the hall closet, but of course, it wasn't there. Swearing under my breath so my mom wouldn't hear, I checked the kitchen, the living room, even the bathrooms.

"Well?" Mom tapped her foot impatiently. "Where is it?"

"I don't know!" I wailed.

"Hmm." She pursed her lips. "You're already going to be late. Go on ahead and I'll keep looking for it. I'll bring your backpack to the office when I find it."

I gave her a hug. "Thanks, Mom, you're the greatest!"

Keys in hand, I dashed out to the Suburban, and there was my back-pack, sitting on the driver's seat. _Rosalie!_ I tossed it into the passenger seat and jumped behind the wheel. Tires squealing, I sped off to school. On the way, I called my mom on my cell phone and told her not to worry about my backpack.

I was late to first period Spanish, of course, and I got detention for it. Figures. So, naturally, I was anxious about getting to my next class and avoiding any more trouble.

But as I rounded the corner of Building 2, I saw the strangest thing. Emmett Cullen was sitting on the back of one of the benches, his feet on the bench seat. That was kind of strange in itself, because everyone else was hurrying to the next class. What caught my eye, though, was the big orange wrapper he had balanced on one knee. He was eating a King-size Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. I'd never seen any of the Cullens eat junk-food, and most of the time, they barely ate any lunch. And there he was, huge Emmett Cullen, perched on the bench eating a King-sized candy bar. He smiled at me again and popped an entire chocolate in his mouth. I shivered. Must be getting colder out here.

Behind me, Eric Yorkie snickered. Emmett did look a little odd, but it was nothing worth laughing at, and I hurried on to my next class.

Before second-period English started, Mr. Mason called me aside. "Umm... Mike?"

He sounded really nervous. "Yes?" I asked.

"You seem to have something... er... brown on your pants."

I looked down the front of my jeans, wondering if I'd somehow spilled a cola on myself without noticing.

"No. Um... on your backside."

My eyebrows knitted in confusion, and I twisted to look at the back of my jeans. There was a big brown blob on my butt. And I smelled like chocolate.

I froze, my muscles locking down in sheer embarrassment. At least Mr. Mason had angled us so I wasn't standing with my back to the class.

"Perhaps you'd like a restroom pass?" he suggested.

"Yes, sir." 


	6. Don't Mess with Texas

While Rosalie and Emmett haunted Mike's bedroom, I stewed over what prank to pull on Newton. And then it struck me, an idea so simple as to be genius. At lunch tomorrow, I'd use my talent to make him so anxious he'd puke. If I was quick enough, he wouldn't even have time to leave the table.

But my plans were ruined when he skipped lunch on Wednesday. I was sure that was Emmett's fault, the child was probably in search of a change of clothes. When he avoided the cafeteria again on Thursday, though, I was downright annoyed. He left me no choice. I'd have to hunt him down to someplace where he thought he was safe.

Thursday afternoon, I took down four white-tails before Emmett, Rosalie, and I headed into town. Deer aren't very appetizing, but if I was going to be alone with humans, I couldn't risk losing control.

I paused outside Olympic Outfitters, looking through the window at my prey. He was currently stocking fishing lures, his face a mask of misery. I almost felt sorry for him, but he'd brought this on himself. Besides, I was patronizing his family's business for a completely unnecessary purchase. Technically, I was being _nice_. 

Emmett and Rosalie waited outside. They'd be able to hear well enough, and through the window, they'd have the best seats in the house.

The bell chimed as I walked through the door. Mrs. Newton looked up, warm with pleasant surprise, but Mike was too engrossed by his rubber worms. I crossed over to him. "Hello, Mike."

He jumped, and I didn't dare add to his panic. When humans felt uncomfortable around Emmett, they usually put it down to his intimidating bulk. Without my talent, though, most humans thought I was the most sinister of the Cullens. Startling Newton sent a bolt of (he would think) irrational terror through him. The scent of adrenaline was already exciting my instincts, so I actually calmed him down just a bit. "Hi... erm... Jasper," he stuttered.

I smiled carefully. "I was wondering if you could help me. I want to buy a knife."

"A knife?" His voice cracked.

"Yes. A hunting knife, to be precise. Do you carry them?"

"Uh..." 

I sent another wave of calm and he managed to answer hoarsely, "Yeah."

He walked over to a glass case by the register and I looked over the pitiful selection. Only a handful of the knives had blades longer than four inches. "I need something pretty versatile," I said casually. "I'll be using it for hunting and skinning, and I want the blade to be sturdy enough to handle wood or bone."

The color drained from his face. "Oh."

I gave him a wry grin. "The last time I used an Arkansas Toothpick, I snapped the blade." Which was true. I just didn't tell him it was in 1859.

I gestured toward a "survival knife" that was saw-toothed on the back of the blade. "The Sheffield Bowies are a bit too flashy for me. After all, how often do people really need to _saw_ through bone?"

He gulped.

"I like the more traditional designs — they're lethally elegant in their simplicity — although I _am_ partial to the D-guard handle style." It was a favorite in the Confederate Army, and I'd carried one myself back then.

I shook my head thoughtfully, ignoring Newton as he pressed his trembling hands against the glass. "Why mess with perfection? Jim Bowie wanted a dueling blade that could be put to more practical uses as well. And he knew what he was doing. A frontiersman and a fighter, he put his knives to the test, time and again." Remembering why I was here, I suddenly looked up and held Mike Newton's terrified gaze. "Did you know that he single-handedly killed a group of three assassins with the first bowie knife?"

"Hello," Mrs. Newton said behind me. "Aren't you one of the Cullens?"

I turned toward her. "Yes. I'm Jasper." I could feel the heat of her interest, and I had to fight to keep my smile small enough to be pleasant. This was just getting better and better.

She looked up at me shyly. "You seem to know a lot about knives."

"Just Mr. Bowie." I glanced again at the glass case. "I lived in Texas once, and it's not something you outgrow."

"Oh!" Mrs. Newton cooed in a sorry imitation of a Georgia accent. "A Southern gentleman!"

"Yes ma'am," I drawled, and she sighed with longing. Behind me, Mike was all but gagging. I might just make him puke after all.

I'd bet an African lion that Mrs. Newton was a fan of _Gone With the Wind_. "Now don't start flirting with me," I quoted Rhett Butler, "I'm not one of your plantation beaus."

I was right. She batted her eyelashes and I had to send some calm _her_ way. Behind the counter, Newton was a turbulent sea of disgust, terror, and amazement. I threw in a healthy dose of anxiety, and retching, he dove for the trash can.

Mission accomplished.

Mrs. Newton stared in shock at her son, then looked back to me, flushing a bright red in embarrassment.

And that was about all my self-control could handle. "I'll take the eight-inch bowie," I murmured, holding my breath. Then silently, I made my purchase and hurried outside.

The M3 was shaking with Emmett's bellowing laughter. 


	7. Good Kids

I scowled out at the morning mist. In my twelve years as principal here, I'd never seen the like. The Cullens were great students, straight as an arrow inside school and out. And so was Mike Newton, mostly. I never would have guessed he was the one who vandalized Edward Cullen's locker. But even when he came in before school today and confessed, I couldn't find the heart to be angry at him. He was so dejected. He knew it was a stupid thing to do. And he was right — his father _would_ rake him over the coals. I was actually feeling just a touch proud of him for doing the mature thing and owning up to his mistake when he brought up the Cullens.

He tried to act all cool about it, but he was genuinely scared. On the one hand, I could understand why. Even though the Cullens were a good bunch of kids, that Emmett was a bit intimidating just by his sheer size. On the other hand, it strained the imagination, the thought of those quiet, studious Cullens actually being violent. After all, Rosalie Hale had weaseled the truth out of him several days ago, by Mike's own account. All this time, and they hadn't so much as lifted a finger against him. Jasper Hale buying a camping knife hardly qualified. 

Still, it was best to look into it, all the same. I'd told Mrs. Cope to call Emmett and Jasper to my office during the first hour, not bothering to pull Ms. Hale from her class. I just couldn't imagine her taking part in any revenge her brothers might be planning.

I was sure it was nothing. At least, I hoped ...

A sharp knock on the door startled me. "Yes?"

The door opened, and Jasper Hale peeked in. His expression was mildly curious, and I instantly relaxed. Why was I so jumpy this morning?

"You wanted to see us, Mr. Greene?" he asked.

"Yes. Come in and have a seat, boys."

Jasper slid easily into the room, but Emmett _filled_ the doorway as he sauntered in. I'd never needed to call either one of them into my office before, but it suddenly felt very close. Emmett was big, but Jasper loomed almost as tall. I'd never noticed.

Then they took their seats, and I felt much more at ease. I probably exaggerated their height because I was still sitting.

They watched me expectantly, and I was suddenly flustered at having been caught staring. It took me a good five seconds to gather my thoughts again, and I was embarrassed all the more. Nervously, I cleared my throat. "I'm sure you're wondering why I called you in here today."

Emmett bobbed his head, his eyes wide in innocent confusion.

"Well, you see..." Get a grip! "Mike Newton came to me before school with some... concerns."

They exchanged an unreadable glance, then Emmett asked, "Mike Newton?" He clearly didn't follow me.

Jasper was just as puzzled. "Do you want us to help tutor him, Mr. Greene?"

I laughed with sudden relief. "No, no. Nothing like that. He was concerned that you two might be... unhappy with him."

"Unhappy?"

"Well, he was terrified, actually, that you might want to get revenge on him."

"We wouldn't do anything to him," Jasper insisted, "even _if_ he did do something to make us angry. You know us, Mr. Greene."

"Yes, Mr. Hale, I do." I felt so foolish.

"I don't understand," Emmett added. "_Why_ did he think we would want revenge? It doesn't make any sense."

I cleared my throat again. "He thought you knew. He confessed to vandalizing Edward's locker."

"He confessed?" Emmett snorted, then burst out laughing.

Jasper snickered, and I chuckled, too. "I assume you're not upset about the locker, then?"

"Not at all," Jasper assured me, still grinning. "I thought it was rather amusing, actually." 

Emmett was still laughing too hard to answer.

"Well I won't deny I'm relieved to hear that, Mr. Hale. Don't let me keep you from your classes."

"Yes, sir," Jasper answered, rising to his feet. Emmett wordlessly followed him out the door, still shaking from laughter.

I smiled as the door shut behind them. Any rumor to the contrary was just sour grapes. Those were good kids.


	8. Red Herring

"You know what, Edward, I think we can just skip this today." Bella's cheeks were warm with her beautiful blush as she faced the cafeteria doors. 

Alice danced along beside us, holding a golf umbrella over Bella and me as I pushed her wheelchair. I had to duck, but that just meant I was closer to Bella. Alice grinned cheerfully. "You need to eat, Bella."

"Yeah, well, I want food about as much as you do right now."

I whispered in her ear, "Not funny."

She shivered and I smiled.

It was her first day back in school, and Bella had spent most of the day mortified.

Firstly, there was the fact that she had a large, ungainly cast, compounded by an attention-grabbing, pity-inducing wheelchair.

Secondly, because of that cast, she couldn't so much as dress herself without help. Alice had come to her rescue, which had proven to be a mixed blessing because...

Thirdly, Alice had, without consulting Bella, purchased a three-week wardrobe of cast-friendly outfits. When Bella raged about that, Alice said it was already a concession to make Bella wear each outfit _twice_ during her remaining six weeks of recovery and threatened to go buy another three weeks of clothes if Bella didn't play nice.

Fourthly, most of those outfits had skirts. Though I'd never admit it, _I_ didn't mind the short skirts and thigh-high slits, nor did I mind the fleece blanket that concealed Bella's lap and legs from others' hungry eyes at school.

"There's cheesecake today," Alice coaxed. 

Bella sighed. "Fine. But for once, I'm going to upstage you, Alice."

Alice laughed and I said, "Bella, love, you underestimate her ability to make an entrance."

Bella groaned, hiding her face in her hands. As her hair fell forward, the burning-sweet scent wafted toward me. Exquisite.

"Let's just go," Bella said, her voice muffled. "And please don't embarrass me."

I nodded and Alice pulled open the cafeteria door. The soft rustling of a roomful of thoughts rose to a cacophony of chatter. It was well that Bella couldn't hear the way her name suddenly peppered the mental commentary. After tucking away our umbrella, Alice picked up two trays and led the way to the line. 

_Where to sit, where to sit?_ Alice glanced up at me, a vision flashing through her mind. The three of us, sitting at a table of our own. Emmett and Jasper giving me a hard time for stealing away the human and Alice, the life of any party. Then another vision opened. The three of us, joining the rest of the family at their table. Jasper and Emmett happily shifting to make room for us. Rosalie shifting farther than necessary and refusing to look at us, but otherwise being civil.

I smiled and nodded toward the family.

A ripple of surprise ran through the room as I wheeled Bella over to the reclusive Cullens' table. Emmett grinned widely as I knew he would, while Jasper simply slid over, non-plussed by the change in Bella's status. Alice slipped in between him and Bella, while I sat opposite Alice.

Bella's face was white, and tears were welling in her eyes.

Embarrassed blushing I would have understood, but I couldn't understand what I was seeing. Was she in pain? "Jasper?" I whispered, too low and quick for Bella to hear.

He looked at me, and my eyes darted to Bella.

Sensing my confusion, he frowned slightly. _She's livid._

What had I done? Despite Alice's delighted visions to the contrary, we hadn't made a notable entrance, and I managed to maneuver her through the crowded lunchroom without drawing undo attention to ourselves. Why would she be angry with me?

_Worry about it later,_ Jasper counseled. _Rosalie isn't in the mood for you to play Dr. Phil, and I would guess Bella isn't either._

Bella awkwardly cleared her throat, then reached for her bagel. "So... what did we miss while we were in Phoenix?"

Even with the visions Alice had seen, I was unprepared for the images that raced through Emmett's head. Harassing that vile Mike Newton, re-arranging his bedroom with Rosalie, the _peanut butter cup_. He shrugged. "Nothing much. You know how it is. Nothing ever happens around here."

Bella swallowed her nibble of bagel. "Yeah. Forks has been really boring for me, too."

He chuckled.

I caught the tail end of Mike Newton's thoughts as he stared glumly at us. _I wish he really WAS gay and I had a fighting chance. Bella's gonna hate me for that. I'm sure they'll tell her about the locker. I never should have listened to Tyler._

What was that? I focused in on Tyler Crowley, ignoring Emmett as he happily continued. "There was a rumor that you were disfigured for life."

Jasper stared at his plate, averting his eyes from Bella's blood-red blush.

_...I'm lucky, Mr. Greene didn't believe him if Mike tried to pin it on me. He spent last week in in-school suspension, and nobody's said anything to me yet, so I bet that's what happened._

Emmett brandished a forkful of salad. "And then, of course, there was the one about you being pregnant with Edward's baby."

Bella choked on her soda, and I patted her gently on the back.

_Maybe she'll finally realize..._ Rosalie snarled to herself.

"What?" Bella gasped between coughs.

"Emmett, you really are a boor," I muttered.

"I only heard it because I was changing after gym while the kids from your grade were coming in," Emmett said quickly, remembering that — unlike _some_ people — Bella didn't like being the center of attention. "It didn't get any farther than that. Mike Newton threatened to clobber any boy that repeated it."

"Emmett," Jasper said dryly, "_you_ just repeated it."

Emmett made a great show of peeking timidly over Bella's shoulder at Newton, then trying to hide behind her slim shoulders. "Guess I'll live in terror of Mike Newton now."

Jasper snickered, while Alice shook her head, grinning. Images of my sibling's exploits flitted through their minds. Bella chuckled quietly, her eyes dancing, even though she didn't understand the full depth of the irony.

I smiled, and under the cover of their laughter, I said, "You do realize you've been chasing a red herring?"

The laughter stopped and every pair of golden eyes looked at me.

_You're kidding._ Rosalie turned to stare at the wall again

Jasper knew exactly what I meant. _Tyler Crowley._

Emmett elbowed me enthusiastically. _You mean we get an encore?_

Alice's head filled with visions of Tyler's torments.

Bella took in the sudden change in atmosphere, searching our faces one by one. Her brow puckered in confusion. "What?"

Emmett grinned a bit more widely than was strictly necessary. "Jasper bought a really cool knife while you were gone."

Alice rolled her eyes. "Boys."

In Biology, I scooted aside the chair at Bella's desk before rolling her to her place. Then I scribbled off a quick note and slipped it face-down onto Mike Newton's desk. Bella eyed me curiously, but I just smiled and enjoyed listening to her heart react.

Newton came in a couple of paces ahead of Mr. Banner and flipped over my note. _What's this? "I heard you stood up for Bella while we were in Arizona. Thanks, Edward"_

He stole a glance our way, and I smiled at him. Bella looked from me to him and back. "What's going on?" she whispered.

"A matter of honor," I answered. "I owe him."

She stared at me blankly for a moment, then I think she understood, because she nodded slightly and reached for her book.

Newton stared at the scrap of paper in front of him. _He's not mad! And that means he's not gonna make Bella hate me for it. Maybe I WILL get another chance with her. Someday._

And I suddenly remembered why I despised the boy.


	9. Golden Rule

How could he do this? How could _my_ son do this to me? We never had any secrets between us. It was surprising, how hurt I was. I didn't care what anybody else may have said or done, I expected better of him. 

Edward stopped out on the lawn, glancing nervously up at my study's window. I knew he overheard me.

_Edward? A moment of your time, please._

He murmured something to the others and then walked slowly inside. Emmett and Jasper exchanged a concerned glance, but Alice continued to chat happily with Rosalie.

I folded one arm across my chest, pinching the bridge of my nose with my other hand. This was simply beyond belief.

"Yes, Carlisle?"

I looked up, and he nervously grew still.

_Esme tells me our family has been enjoying themselves at Mike Newton's expense._

"Emmett, Jasper, and Rosalie have been... pulling pranks on him, yes."

_And Alice foresaw it?_

He pressed his lips together into a thin line. "Yes."

_And you kept it a secret? From ME?_

His eyes grew tight with worry. "Alice saw we wouldn't be able to rein them in from Phoenix, so we thought it better to not ... disturb you with their sophomoric behavior."

I shook my head in dismay. _I'm so disappointed in you, Edward._

His face fell, stung at my thoughts. "I'm sorry."

_Thanks to you, I missed all the fun!_

Edward's eyes flew wide in surprise and I smirked. _Gotcha!_

I laughed softly. It wasn't often that someone could trick Edward, and I was immeasurably pleased with myself.

He gave me a disgusted look, and my smile faded. I really was disappointed with him and the others, but I knew that once Rosalie got something in her head, she wasn't one to let it go. If I couldn't talk her out of murdering her assailants, there was no way I could talk her out of playing pranks on poor Mike Newton.

Edward snorted and I grinned again. The best I could do would be an object lesson. _Now let's go turn the tables on our pranksters, shall we?_

A slow smile spread across his face. "What did you — "

I shook a stern finger at him, cutting him off. _Alice! She'll see everything we say or do._

Edward grimaced, playing along. "Of course."

I thought for a moment. We needed to do something completely out of character. _Hmm..._ I met Edward's gaze. _A fisticuff? Between you and me?_

Edward's answering grin was positively wicked.

_We'd better not make it too realistic, though. We'll have to repair any damage to the house and do some additional "community service" to placate Esme._

"Well she _did_ aid and abet," he pointed out irritably.

_But still. This is Esme we're talking about here._

Edward huffed, "Yeah, I suppose."

"Don't use that tone of voice with me, Edward Anthony Masen Cullen!" My ringing voice seemed to echo in the suddenly-silent house.

"Carlisle?" Esme tentatively called up the stairs.

"I'm over a hundred years old!" he snarled back, fighting the humor in his voice. "I'll use whatever tone I want!"

"Edward!" Alice exclaimed with an edge of hysteria. "Stop it!" She must have seen what we were planning.

"A hundred years under _my_ roof! Wasting all that money! Look at that Aston Martin — you never even _go_ anywhere in it!"

Edward rolled his eyes. This had been a matter of debate a time or two before. "Would you just let it _die_ already?"

"But it's a _waste_!"

He snorted. "Why do you care? Afraid I'm gonna suck you dry?"

I struck out at Edward, and just as I had imagined, he lifted his arm, blocking my blow. Neither of us were hurt, but the stony crash echoed through the house. Then I shoved him and he stage-staggered out into the hall. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alice standing halfway up the stairs, her mouth open in amazement. The others sat or stood in the living room, rooted to their place in wide-eyed shock.

Then Edward tackled me, and we tumbled down the stairs. His snickering was drowned out by the racket we made as we shattered the banister in several places. Alice barely dashed out of the way in time.

We rolled halfway across the living room, snarling to hide the smiles, while Rosalie shrieked at us to stop it. Emmett finally caught Edward around the waist and hauled him off of me. The others rounded on him, ready to pummel Edward to a pile of chalk, but Jasper defensively stepped in front of him. He must have sensed we weren't in earnest.

"Carlisle?" Jasper asked in wonder, staring down at me where I still lay on the floor.

"You ungrateful whelp!" I growled at Edward, breaking down in laughter on the last word.

Edward doubled over in hysterics as he hung in Emmett's grasp. "And you are an absolutely rotten liar, Carlisle Cullen."

"You were _faking_?!" Fury flashed in Rosalie's dark eyes.

I leaped to my feet. And now we came to the point of this whole exercise. "You seemed happy enough to do unto others, so I thought it might be instructive to do unto you. Consider yourself had."

Alice looked from Edward to me and back again, utterly bewildered. "You _planted_ that vision?"

I shrugged. "You didn't feel inclined to share in Phoenix, so I didn't feel inclined to share here."

"Edward was in on it," she pouted, "both there and here."

"Ah," Edward answered sagely, "but I was the one whose locker was desecrated to begin with."

"Desecrated," Emmett snorted and loosed his grip on Edward. "It has to sacred first, bro."

"Considering your overreaction, Emmett," I pressed, "anyone would assume it was just that. Tormenting a _child_!" I shook my head in dismay.

"I wouldn't exactly call it 'torment,'" Emmett hedged. "Would you Jasper?"

"No, certainly not what _I'd_ call torment. More like..."

"Cat and mouse?" I offered helpfully. I could only imagine what battle-hardened Jasper would consider torment.

"I was going to say good-natured ribbing," Jasper said with a smile.

I crossed my arms, and Emmett hunched his shoulders, cowering as much as a six-and-a-half-foot behemoth of a vampire can cower.

"I hope I've heard the last of this nonsense," I said sternly.

"Yes, well, about that." Emmett's eyes darted to Edward. "Mike Newton wasn't acting alone. In fact, he was pretty much tricked into it. Tyler Crowley is the guilty one."

I raised my eyebrows, daring him to make that relevant somehow.

"Well we have to be _fair_! It would be a horrible injustice if Mike took all the... the..."

"The good-natured ribbing," Jasper finished Emmett's thought.

"Yeah, that — all by himself. We can't ... rib Newton and let Crowley off the hook altogether."

"It would be the merciful thing to do," I pointed out.

"But it wouldn't be right."

"Mike Newton confessed," Rosalie said suddenly, "thanks to us pricking his conscience. That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"A good thing for him, but what about you?"

"We're being careful," Rosalie said solemnly. "And I promise, we won't do anything to him that we wouldn't do to each other."

"That isn't exactly the Golden Rule," I pointed out.

She smiled. "No, but how can treating him like family be bad?"

That wasn't the best way for her to word it, considering the damage Edward and I had just done to the house in the name of family. I chuckled, then sighed. "If I hear so much as a whisper on the wind about this..."

"You'll think of something ten times worse to do to us," Emmett said with surety. "Don't worry. Tyler won't tell a soul."


	10. Encore

During the wee hours of Wednesday morning, Rosalie and I broke into the Crowleys' house. We weren't going for an exact reenactment of Newton's practical jokes. After all, Crowley was much more to blame than Mike Newton. We were going more for "variations on a theme," as Edward would put it.

Rosalie gave me a quick kiss before she went to the garage to look for a toolbox. This was going to be _good_.

First things first, I went to his bathroom to steal a personal item. This time, I took the deodorant _and_ the toothbrush, remembering to check the closet for spares. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I grinned like an idiot. This was _way_ too much fun.

Then I moved on to the clothes, switching the drawers around. Now how to up the ante here? The answer hit me when I pulled out the sock drawer: just add another switcheroo. Luck was with me, and Beth Crowley hadn't done a load of whites for a while. I replaced all of Tyler's clean socks with dirty ones, but after Carlisle's little stunt, I decided to have pity and leave him some clean underwear.

Rose came back then, and we started in on the bed. I held the mattress steady while she dismantled the headboard and frame under it, and all the while Tyler snored like a pig. She didn't bother with a ratchet-set to unscrew the bolts; her fingers were more than strong enough, and the ratchet would be too noisy anyway. The toolbox was just for show.

Her hair was tied back under a scarf, and a little smudge of dust was on her forehead. It was times like this, when she was absorbed in her work, that I thought Rosalie was most beautiful. Sure, she was _prettier_ when she was done up as the best eye-candy the Good Lord gave to man, but she was most _beautiful_ when she was happy. And she was happiest when she could be her creative self — building things, perfecting our cars, helping in the garden.

"Have you finished with the clothes?" she whispered without looking up.

"I just have the closet left."

She nodded, sliding the last bolt out of the headboard and pulling it free. I gently set the mattress down, and Tyler's snores continued unabated. We shared a mischievous grin, and for about the eighteenth time that night, I longed to take her.

Rosalie put the metal frame in the shower-stall while I hid the bolts in the opaque bowl-shaped light fixture that hung from the ceiling. The head- and foot-boards we left lying about the room at odd angles. Rosalie went to the bedroom door and surveyed the room, smiling at a job well-done. Then we turned our attention to the closet.

I pulled open the closet doors and Rosalie wrinkled her nose in distaste when she saw the paltry assortment of clothes. "Pathetic."

I chuckled silently, then grabbed a handful of hangers. "That means it'll just be quicker."

In answer, she traded hangers with me, and we finished in a matter of seconds.

Rosalie pulled out a bottle of cheap-imitation perfume and wandered the room, randomly spraying it on clothes and bed linens, then she handed me a travel-size bottle of hair conditioner. "And now for the _pièce de résistance._"

I dug around in my jeans pocket, laughing so hard it took me a second to retrieve my prize — a condom. I tore open the metallic packet, tossing it casually onto his bed, then I put a good squirt of conditioner in the condom and tossed it on the floor.

"Revolting," Rosalie said with approval.

Then she slipped a socket-wrench from the toolbox under the edge of Tyler's pillow. I turned off his alarm and, as a final touch, Rosalie put a smudge of grease on his nose. She grinned up at me. "Just let him try to explain _this_!"


	11. Crazy

"Tyler! Wake up! You're going..." Mom's voice trailed off, and I blinked, trying to figure out where I was. "TYLER CROWLEY!" she shrieked and I sat bolt-upright in bed. A socket wrench rolled onto the floor. My room looked like a bomb hit it. "What in the world is this?" Mom demanded.

"Uh..." My mattress was on the floor, along with the pieces from the rest of the bed. "Uh..."

"And what is this, young man?" she demanded, looking down. The toe of her white tennis shoe nudged a used condom on my floor.

I could feel my eyes bugging out as I stupidly stared at it.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Uh... Uh... I don't know." I ran my fingers through my hair, unable to think straight in this mess. I didn't _remember_ doing anything last night. My bed was still in one piece when I fell asleep. And there's no way I could have had a chance to use a condom without remembering it. It would suck to get punished when I didn't even get to have any fun.

"I don't know?" Mom echoed, disbelief dripping from her words.

"Honestly, Mom," I said hoarsely. "I don't know."

The panic in my voice seemed to convince her, and her tone suddenly softened. "What did you _do_ to yourself last night?"

I tore my eyes away from the incriminating evidence to look at my mom. The color had drained from her face.

"I didn't do anything!" I wailed.

"What did you take?" she demanded sternly. "Did you get drunk? It wasn't meth, was it?" she whispered, horror-struck.

"No, mom, I didn't take anything. I don't drink and I don't do drugs." The only time I ever drank alcohol was when Dad and I were watching Monday Night Football and he'd give me a beer. Underage drinking didn't count if it was with a parent.

"But sweetheart..." She looked around my room. "You can't lie about _this_. It's a cry for help." She sat down on the bed, a bit of a stretch without the frame, and her face was ashen as guilt burned in her eyes. "I'm sorry I'm such a bad mom and didn't see the signs sooner. But I'm here now. You can talk to me. I'm listening."

"WHAT?"

"I'm... not going to be judgmental. But you obviously have a problem with drugs and girls and... well... you know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

I almost whimpered aloud at those dreaded words. Yeah right. Like I was going to talk about sex with my _mother_! "I don't know what happened here, but it _didn't_ involve drugs and it _didn't_ involve any girls!" I would have remembered!

"You know," she said serenely, "denial will only keep you from getting the help you need."

"Argh! I'M NOT IN DENIAL!"

"Don't talk to your mother that way!" My dad stormed into the room, then stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the bed. Following my mom's meaningful gaze, he looked down at Exhibit A on the carpet.

"What's all this?"

"_Your_ son doesn't know." There was a bitter edge to the word. "And he's not in denial either."

Dad rolled his eyes. "Oh, cut him some slack, Beth. At least he was being responsible."

"Responsible? You call _this_ responsible?"

"You _want_ him to get some girl knocked up?"

"I didn't — " I tried to cut in, but my parents just shouted right over me.

"I want him to act like a _man_, not some overgrown boy who thinks getting plastered and screwing around at home constitutes responsibility."

"Well maybe if you lightened up on him he wouldn't rebel — "

I threw off the covers and marched to the bathroom, slamming the door. 

"Where are _you_ going?" Dad yelled after me.

"I'm taking a shower!" I bellowed back. "I have to get ready for school!" Angrily, I yanked my t-shirt off over my head. This was insane! There was no way I could have done all that in my sleep. It _had_ to be somebody's sick idea of a practical joke. But there's no way I would have slept through somebody taking my bed apart.

When I pushed the shower-curtain back, I nearly growled. My bed-frame stood there, thumbing its nose at me. I moved the pieces to a corner, not wanting to go back out into the fight that was still raging in my bedroom. When I turned on the water, I was half-expecting the hot and cold water to be reversed or mud to come out or something crazy like that. The water came out clear and hot. Suddenly suspicious, I took a sniff of the shampoo bottle, but all I got for my trouble was a bubble up my nose.

Under the stream of water, I mulled over what had happened. I wasn't crazy. And unless somebody had slipped me something last night, I wasn't high. Mom or Dad were the only ones who would have had an chance to do that, and I wasn't even going there. So somebody else had taken apart my bed. Who would... _MIKE NEWTON!_

It was his way of getting back at me for the whole locker thing. Mr. Greene didn't believe him when he told on me, so this was his way of getting revenge. But he couldn't have done it by himself. Jessica would do anything he asked her to do, but even the two of them wouldn't be enough to take my bed apart under me. How many people were in on this?

Great. Add paranoia to the list of "why this day sucks."

I toweled off, but then I couldn't find my deodorant _or_ my toothbrush. I actually growled that time.

When I went into my room to finish getting ready, Mom was sitting white-faced on my bed. She rose to her feet and said, "Get dressed. I'm bringing you to the doctor's."

"Why?" I demanded.

"I want to know what drugs you took last night."

At the clinic, I sat morosely with my back to a tank full of _Finding Nemo_ fish, with un-brushed teeth, dirty socks, and no deodorant, giving my mom the silent treatment and plotting my revenge on Mike.

We'd been friends since elementary school. How could he do this? I mean, sure, I tricked him, but I didn't actually get him in _trouble_! He was the dork who confessed.

"Tyler Crowley?" the nurse called.

Mom stood and glared at me until I heaved a sigh and followed her. I gritted my teeth while the nurse took my weight and height, chatting cheerily with my mom. Then the nurse took blood and urine samples. "We'll call you with the results in a few days," she reassured my mom.

THIS WAS CRAZY!

Then Mom did the worst possible thing she could. She drove me to school.


	12. Games

Luckily, all Mom said to Mrs. Cope's prying questions was that I had a check-up this morning that she'd forgotten about, but I had to walk in half-way through third-period biology and make a big scene. Mike would be lucky to see the end of this day. I mean, I was a lineman on the football team. I knew how to dish it out.

Before fourth-period gym, my day took a turn for the worse — something I didn't think was possible. My hair suddenly stood on end as Rosalie Hale and Emmett Cullen walked past me on either side. Emmett was _huge_, and I was suddenly glad he wasn't on the football team, too. Not many guys can make me feel small, but Emmett was one of them.

They slowed, falling in step with me, and Rosalie casually asked, "So how did you sleep last night, Emmett?"

I glanced at her, then up at him. "I hardly got a wink," he complained, except he was grinning.

"That's a shame," she said, looking like it was anything but.

"What about you, Tyler?" Rosalie asked, her dark eyes seeming to glow with curiosity. "Did _you_ sleep well?"

"Uh..."

"No?" She winked, and my knees went all wobbly. "Maybe you should get a new bed."

Then they walked on and left me staring after them, Rosalie wiggling her hips just a little. She was so _HOT_!

It wasn't until I was changing after gym that I realized _what_ she'd said. It wasn't Mike who had torn apart my room last night. It was the CULLENS! My hands balled into fists and I wanted to... The memory of Emmett's menacing bulk flashed through my mind. No.

Mike was still gonna get it, though. He must have tattled to them, too, not wanting to get his hands dirty. Traitor! Now I was _really_ going to cream him after school.

I barely noticed the rain as I strode toward the cafeteria. I'd catch him in the parking lot in front of everybody so they'd see what a spineless piece of — 

Edward Cullen, pushing Bella's wheelchair, turned on the sidewalk in front of me and glared. I gulped. Then his sister Alice opened the cafeteria door and he wheeled Bella in, casting one last black look at me before getting in line.

That was another score to settle. I'd have to find a way to get him off of Bella so she could be with the one she _really_ wanted. She promised me we'd go to prom before that "perfect" Edward got in the way. I mean, the story was she left to get away from him, and he chased her all the way down to Phoenix. Now he wouldn't leave her alone. 

Edward shot me another dirty look, and I couldn't help but smile. He was obviously jealous. There was a little more swagger to my step at the thought. He could have any girl in the school that he wanted, and the one girl that didn't want him wanted _me_.

Mike was sitting next to Jessica and Angela, staring with puppy-dog eyes at Bella, but he couldn't fool me. He was just avoiding looking at me after what happened last night. I clenched my jaw. He wouldn't be able to ignore me after school.

I sat on the opposite end of the table, next to Austin and Lauren.

"Hey, where were you this morning?" Austin asked between bites of pizza.

I took a huge bite of my burrito. Wow, I was hungry today! "Doctor's visit." I decided it was safest to stick with the cover-story. "My mom was an idiot and forgot all about it."

"You look kinda pissed."

"I am."

Austin swigged some soda, then looked at me expectantly.

"It's nothing," I said around a mouthful, feeling really nervous all of a sudden. "Just somebody played a stupid prank last night, and they're gonna _pay_ for it today."

He grinned. "Want some help?"

I threw a glance at Mike, sizing him up, and felt my confidence return. "Won't need it."

"What kind of prank?" Lauren asked, taking a dainty nibble of her bagel.

"They broke into — " That strange, intense anxiety swept through me again, stronger this time. I tried to ignore it.

No such luck. I tossed my cookies... right into Lauren's lap.

Friday afternoon, Newton stopped by with my homework assignments for the day. Mom had kept me home from school, certain I had the same bug that had made Mike throw up at work last week. 

"He's in the den," she said, pointing Mike my way.

He set the assignments on the coffee table, but I didn't even pause my Xbox game. He stood, shifting from one foot to the other nervously for a couple of minutes. "The Cullens got to you, too, huh?"

"After you sicked 'em on me," I snarled.

"I didn't tell anybody," he said, hurt in his voice. He never was good at playing it cool.

"Yeah, right. Just because nobody believed you..."

"I didn't tell Mr. Greene, and I didn't tell the Cullens. But they came after me, the Cullens did, anyway. That's why I finally confessed. I didn't want to see what else they'd do to me."

I paused the game. "Uh-huh."

"Remember the peanut-butter cup?"

I snorted. Sure did. I think somebody even got a picture with their cell phone for the yearbook. "You're blaming _them_ for the fact that you're a slob?"

"Rosalie rearranged my room. I don't know how she got the peanut butter cup under me, but I'm sure it was her. And then Jasper came in to the store and talked about Jim Bowie killing people and flirted with my mom until I was so grossed out that I threw up."

"_He_ flirted with your _mom_?"

Mike frowned glumly. "Worse. She started it."

I felt my stomach churn in sympathy. "Dude."

He was looking pretty green, too. "Yeah."

"So you weren't the one who put a used condom in my bedroom?"

Mike choked. "No!"

I kinda smiled. Now that I'd had some time to cool off, I realized that Mike wouldn't narc on me. We'd been friends forever, and ever since we were kids, he was as loyal as a retriever. "Did they steal your toothbrush, too?"

He grinned. "Nope. Just my deodorant."

"But it was Rosalie. That's something to think about, isn't it? Rosalie in your bedroom."

"Yeah."

I nodded toward the entertainment center where the game controllers were. "Wanna help me conquer the galaxy?"

He smiled, relieved. "Yeah!" 


	13. Set Up

Alice skipped along happily beside me, holding my hand. The dance was in three days, and she was all but bursting with excitement, mostly because it meant that all the pieces were falling together for a truly human experience. But a small part of her was excited because she finally got to pull her prank on Tyler Crowley.

We were walking to Rosalie's car, dallying until our victim was within hearing range. I knew when he could eavesdrop because Alice's expression suddenly became deeply concerned. That was my cue.

"Aren't you and Bella coming over after school?"

She shook her head, sympathy radiating off her. "No, I couldn't do that to her. It's just too much to expect her to hang out at our house, what with everything that's happening between her and Edward right now. We'll study at her place."

I shrugged. "Suit yourself." Behind me, Tyler picked up his pace and I could feel his curiosity looming closer, trying to peek over my shoulder.

Alice sighed, her lips puckering in disapproval. "Promise me that _you'll_ come pick me up. Don't let Edward talk you out of it. Knowing him, he'd use that as an excuse to come see her. He really is overbearing sometimes."

"Yeah," I ruefully agreed. "And I think you're right. It wouldn't be good for Bella to see him face-to-face right now."

Hope blossomed behind me, and I repressed a smile.

I couldn't resist nurturing it just a bit more. "You'd think he'd get a clue when she doesn't want to go to prom with him."

Alice's amusement flashed brightly beside me, but aloud she clucked in dismay. "It makes me wonder if she's had other plans for prom all along. She already has a dress and everything."

I didn't need to add an ounce to Tyler's elation.

We held it together until we were both safely in Rosalie's car, then burst out laughing.


	14. Finale

"I'm not coming over anymore if Alice is going to treat me like Guinea Pig Barbie when I do," Bella complained.

I was bemused, unsure whether Bella was truly that oblivious or merely being difficult. She was disarmingly observant most of the time, but her mother's genetics _had_ to assert themselves occasionally, I supposed. Perhaps tonight was one of those times.

Once again, she blindsided me. Most women _enjoyed_ being beautiful, and beautiful didn't even begin to describe Bella tonight. Beautiful was everyday for her. Tonight she was stunning. She _should_ be basking in her glory, or perhaps coyly blushing at the transformation Alice had wrought. But there she sat, glowering at me like I'd kidnapped her at knife-point and was demanding her ATM pin. 

My cell phone rang, and I glanced at the number. Bella's house. Charlie had considered grounding Bella to keep her home tonight but the policeman in him decided to be fair and let her enjoy her Junior Prom. I only hoped Bella hadn't somehow talked him into following his paternal instincts instead.

"Hello, Charlie."

Bella's inviting lips turned down in confusion. "Charlie?"

"Edward." He cleared his throat. "Um... Apparently there's been some confusion. Tyler Crowley is here and he says that he and Bella have planned on going out tonight since early March."

"You're kidding!" Alice only saw him showing up at Charlie's house. We never dreamed he'd actually press it this far. I grinned despite myself.

"What is it?" Bella looked panicked, probably wondering what Charlie was up to.

This was entirely too good. "Why don't you let me talk to him?"

Tyler had vacillated between starting a fist-fight with me and finding a more devious means of revenge. While his thoughts often centered on Rosalie and her pranks, he didn't dare to cross her again. I had hoped for him to simply go away, but this was infinitely more enjoyable. I was going to owe Alice an entire wardrobe.

"Bella?" Tyler asked hopefully.

The sound of her name on his lips awoke a viciously territorial part of me. "Hello, Tyler, this is Edward Cullen. I'm sorry if there's been some kind of miscommunication, but Bella is unavailable tonight."

"But she — "

"To be perfectly honest," I cut him off, triumph swelling in my chest, "she'll be unavailable every night, as far as anyone besides myself is concerned. No offense. And I'm sorry about your evening." I snapped the phone shut with a satisfying sense of finality. _She's mine._


End file.
